


Nightstick

by TripUpStairs



Category: Glee
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-22 12:28:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/609832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TripUpStairs/pseuds/TripUpStairs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quinn wields a nightstick in a nontraditional manner.  Faberry smut featuring police officer!Quinn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightstick

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PrettyLittlePoutyMouth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettyLittlePoutyMouth/gifts).



> Written for a smut exchange with prettylittlepoutymouth. All thanks to this particular smut idea go to skywarrior108. It might have been better as a total PWP, but I couldn't bring myself to not include a bit of a setup for the smut even if it ended up kind of ridiculous. Regardless, I hope you guys enjoy!

Quinn fiddles with the patch on her sleeve while she waits.  It hasn't even been a week since she was promoted to sergeant.  The three blue stripes on her sleeve look intimidating.  They give her authority.  Some authority anyway.  And she has always appreciated authority.

Some might say her career path is a little strange.  Quinn Fabray in the NYPD?  No, certainly not.  Those who know her better might hesitate for a moment, and then nod their heads.  Yes, that makes sense.  Sue Sylvester didn't even need a pause when Quinn told her she was entering the New York Police Academy right after she graduated from Yale with degrees in literature and psychology.  Instead, Sue told her she expected her to be Chief of the Department by the time she was 35.  There was a reason Quinn was named Head Cheerio when she was only a sophomore.  Because yes, Quinn has always enjoyed order, control, and authority.  She also, as it happens, enjoys keeping people safe. 

Even if sometimes she thinks the laws are asinine and out-dated and that some of her fellow officers corrupt. 

But that's okay.  With her promotion to sergeant just after three years of service, she's right on track to keep moving up the ranks, impressing the right people, and to, hopefully, ultimately make a difference.  Even Sue might be proud.  Quinn smirks at that thought, she can almost hear Sue scoffing in her head.   _You think being a NYPD sergeant at 25 is good?  Try coaching consecutive national championship cheerleading teams full of whiny high school girls who'd rather sing and dance their feelings and then we'll talk!_

"Quinn."

She comes out of her thoughts and spares a smile for the lean figure approaching her.  "Hey Vince, how'd it go tonight."

"Impeccably of course. How bad is it out there?"  Vince says, squinting at the door.

"Pretty packed," Quinn says with a bit of a grimace.

Vince sighs. "I'm just supporting cast.  They're all here for Rachel or Carson anyway.  You surprising her?"

"That's the plan.  Just got off duty."

He smiles.  "Nice. Alright, wish me luck!"

The door opens, and he's met with screams.  Quinn catches a glance at the rowdy crowd of fans as the door shuts and winces.  There were too many for her comfort when she arrived at the backdoor of theater just a few minutes ago.  The security guard had very quickly let her inside, yelling at fans to remain orderly. Rachel has been making headline after headline, originating an iconic role for her musical smash hit.  The crowd that gathers after every performance for autographs and pictures boasts impressive numbers.  Quinn is thankful the theater has security to manage the crowd and keep Rachel at least a little bit safer.

Speaking of Rachel... Quinn does her best to hold back a smile as her girlfriend emerges from around a corner talking with her costar, Carson.  She's engrossed in some topic, hands and arms moving animatedly.  Quinn can tell the moment Rachel realizes that she's there.  She continues talking, but her eyes brighten and her smile widens.  Quinn's own heart picks up its pace at the sight of Rachel, and she does her best to fight the smile that plays at her lips.

Rachel concludes her story with a rapid burst of sentences and then launches herself into Quinn.  "You should have come back to the dressing room!" Rachel says, pouting.  "You didn't have to wait out here."

Quinn wraps her arms around Rachel's waist as her girlfriend takes off her hat with one hand and kisses her in greeting.  Rachel lingers after the kiss ends.  "I do so like you in this uniform," Rachel whispers lowly.

Quinn chuckles even as Rachel's hand slides down her body, coming to rest on her hip, just above her Glock pistol. "Even after three years.  But I waited here because I figured you were almost ready to go given the time, and I didn't want to...distract.  It's only been a couple of minutes, promise."

"Yes, well, I do like to make sure you're taken care of," Rachel says. She pulls back, scanning Quinn's form.

Quinn finds it both endearing and amusing that Rachel still checks her over for injuries every day once she gets off from work.  Law enforcement is not Rachel's first choice of career for her because of the danger associated with it, but, regardless, her girlfriend remains very supportive.  And Quinn is more than happy to satisfy Rachel's need to check for any on-the-job injuries.  Plus, as it turns out, as Quinn has learned multiple times, Rachel really does appreciate the uniform, and it's not unusual for her once-overs to lead to something more.

"I'm fine.  Promise," Quinn says.  "Today was rather boring actually."

Rachel nods her head, gaze traveling back to meet Quinn's, obviously satisfied with her examination.  "Maybe I can enliven your day a little when we get home?" she says lowly.

There's a cough, and then, "I'm still right here you know."

"Yes, thank you for that Carson," Rachel says dryly, looking at him out of the corner of her eyes.  

Quinn sends him an apologetic smile.  "Let's all get out of here."

"How crazy is it out there?" Rachel asks.

Quinn hesitates answering, gritting her teeth together.

"Your face says it all," Carson says, chuckling.

Rachel nods, smiling.  "That's okay. I will never take my fans for granted...even though I certainly wouldn't mind if things weren't so busy after every single show."

"Pens at the ready, Rachel!" Carson says.  "And hey, at least you have your own security detail this time."

He pushes open the door outside and they're met with a wave of noise.  He steps out, and Quinn can't help but wince at the screams of his name.  Quinn takes her hat gently back from Rachel's hand and secures it on her head, low over her eyes, with a sharp tug.  Rachel gives her a small smile and squeezes her hand before following Carson.  Quinn quietly slips out after her, giving a nod to the two security guards.  One watches from the door, and the other stands toward the end of the crowd-controlling, steel barricades that lead toward the street.  Carson and Rachel are already working their way down the line, signing at every piece of paper, playbill, and more that gets thrusted toward them.  There are flashes of camera lights, demands for pictures, and all the manner of strange questions thrown their way.

Quinn can't help but keep her hand resting on the nightstick strapped to her belt, opposite of her pistol.  All the energy and demands directed toward Rachel by these strangers make her nervous.  And some of these  _fans_  certainly seem to be lacking in their knowledge of personal space with their grabby hands and pushing against the barricades.

She's busy maintaining a hawk-eyed stare on Rachel, so she only distantly notices the clamor around Carson at first.  But then Rachel is dropping her pen and jumping up the line toward him, and Quinn snarls at the sight she sees.  Some fans--though she hesitates to call them that--have pushed aside the barricade and have yanked Carson into the crowd.  He's a strong guy, a trained dancer, so they must have taken him by surprise.

She sprints, the security guards surging forward from either side with her.  Rachel gets to the crowd surrounding Carson before she does, and all Quinn knows is that she wants Rachel as far away from there as possible.  While she doesn't think Rachel's life is endangered, Quinn just wants her safe and an unruly group of fans does  _not_  constitute safe in her book--especially with how they're spilling around the barricade now.

"Let him go!" Rachel yells as pushes into the fray.  "I swear!  You let him go right now or I'll--"

"Rachel!" Quinn shouts as she lunges forward, trying to grab her.  She misses, and Rachel gets lost inside the bodies.  Quinn shoves her way through the people, her hat getting knocked from her head in the process, but she quickly forgets about it in her efforts to secure Rachel.

The security guards are beside her now.  Their large bodies are doing a better job of drawing attention than her uniform at the moment, which makes Quinn seethe, but she has more than enough to worry about.

"You jackass!" comes Rachel's voice.

Quinn grits her teeth and then snarls, flashing her badge to a few of the people around her.  "NYPD!" she shouts as loud as she can.  That seems to earn attention from some, and, if nothing else, it gets people moving out of the way until she finally gets a clear line of vision to Rachel in the middle of everything

Rachel stands inches away from a fan who is probably twice her size, pointer finger leveled aggressively at him.  Quinn bites back a scowl because Rachel looks like she's seconds away from physically assaulting him and that's the last thing her girlfriend's career needs.  But then there's an unexpected twist low in Quinn's stomach.  She takes in Rachel's fiery energy, her body exploding with purpose and indignation with wild hair and eyes, and Quinn's mouth goes dry.  She shakes off the flush of warmth spreading through her body and dashes forward, shoving people out of the way until finally she's at Rachel's side again.  

"Rachel," Quinn barks, grabbing her upper arm.  Despite her voice, her touch is gentle and Rachel shrugs out of her grip, stepping forward into the fan's space, arms flailing.  The fan she's yelling at has put his arms up, wide eyes trained on Quinn and her badge, and she gets a glimpse of Carson behind him, trying to gently extricate himself from the arms of some girl.  Quinn's heart is pounding somewhere up in her throat because she just wants to get Rachel out of there, and she is not helping.

"Rachel!" Quinn shouts again, trying to grab hold of her.  

And when Rachel ignores her and shakes out of her grasp, Quinn growls and reaches for her handcuffs.

* * *

 

Rachel barely registers the cool metal against her wrist.

This...this...this absolute  _lowlife_  had pushed her back when she tried to get to Carson.  And all of this is driving her mad!  She wants to give every single person here a piece of her mind because it's never okay to just yank someone around.  Especially when they're doing something for you like signing autographs!  You just don't invade other people's space period!

And so she finds her blood boiling hot and and a thundering in her ears and she's yelling but she's not even sure what words are spilling out of her mouth.  She hates it when she loses her temper, but it's just all so--

Both arms get pulled behind her back, and she's feel metal snap around her other wrist.   She growls toward the man in front of her, finding her arms restrained.  And then she's being pulled away, hair falling into her face, and she doesn't really register what's happening until she's pushed roughly back through the theater door.  The door closes behind her, and there is silence.  Then Quinn takes up her vision, features cold and stern.

"Quinn!  Let me go!  This is completely unacceptable!" She yells because Quinn has her in handcuffs and everything that happened outside is still sending red hot rage through her veins.

"You're out of control, Rachel," Quinn says calmly, guiding her none too gently down the hallway and taking the turn toward her dressing room. "You need to calm down."

"Calm down? I am completely calm!  It's those...those disreputable buffoons that are out of control," Rachel says, only vaguely aware that she's still shouting.

"Then stop fighting me," Quinn says.

"You put me in handcuffs Quinn!" Rachel snaps.  "Those people could have hurt Carson! I was only trying to help him!"

"I get that," Quinn says cooly.  "But you can't just jump into a crowd of people like that.  And I put you in handcuffs to protect you from  _you_." 

"I hardly need protecting from myself Quinn Fabray!  Get me out of these handcuffs!"

"You were out of control Rachel," Quinn says, stopping her in front of her dressing room.  Quinn opens the door and gestures inside. "I'll let you out once you stop fighting me."

"You're despicable," Rachel says, before shrugging free of Quinn's grip and walking inside her dressing room with her head held high.  Quinn follows, shutting the door behind her.  "There," Rachel says shortly, standing in the middle of her own dressing room. "Release me."

But then Quinn is looking at her strangely, eyes raking over her body.  She takes a slow step toward her, and Rachel realizes she's doing the exact same thing because Quinn in that uniform will never stop sending shivers down her spine.

"Quinn," Rachel commands, "get these handcuffs off me."

"I don't know if I want to now," Quinn says lowly.  "I think you need to be properly sentenced."

Rachel swallows, but doesn't back down even as Quinn invades her space. "I think I need a reward for saving Carson's life."

"Saving his life?  Really?" Quinn says.  Rachel can tell she's trying to hold back a smile, and she's not quite sure when the mood changed so dramatically.  But she stops thinking altogether when Quinn's voice lowers again  "No, while your intentions may have been good, I think you need to be punished for acting out and putting yourself at risk."

Then Quinn is turning her, backing her up so that she's face-first against the door to her dressing room.  Rachel's breath catches as Quinn presses against her and into her hands still locked behind her back.  She thinks she should still be mad about everything that happened outside and about how difficult Quinn is being.  Instead her heartbeat quickens for an entirely different reason accompanied by a rush of warmth spreading through her body.  She can feel the seam of Quinn's zipper against her hands, and she can't help but twist her wrist, moving slightly to find the apex of her girlfriend's thighs with her fingers.

Then a hand is placed between her shoulder-blades, holding her against the door as Quinn puts their bodies at arm's length.  "I don't think so," Quinn husks.

There's a slight pause between them.  Just a moment of hesitation, as Quinn waits for any indication that Rachel wants her to stop.

She doesn't.

So Quinn continues, and Rachel tries to calm her already racing heart.  Because Quinn has barely touched her yet, and because she should still be angry about...about...everything.

The hand between her shoulders moves.  There's a rustle, and Rachel watches over her shoulder as Quinn kneels.  Quinn's hands find her ankles and as both hands travel up either leg, Rachel realizes what she is doing.

"You're patting me down?" Rachel says with a swallow.

Quinn smirks up at her.  "I have to check you for illegal substances and possible weapons."

"Quinn, really--" Rachel begins, turning from the door, but she doesn't finish because Quinn is quickly back at her full height and using her forearm to press her back against the door.

Rachel sucks in a shaky breath as Quinn leans in close, lips grazing the shell of her ear. "Really, Rachel, you're the one in handcuffs.  Let me do my job."

Quinn's lips trail down from her ear, and though Rachel has a quip ready about how that is hardly standard procedure, the words get wiped from her mind as Quinn sucks at the skin where her neck meets shoulder.

Rachel aches to touch her, to turn around, and kiss her senseless, but Quinn has demonstrated that she is thoroughly in control right now.  Rachel's panties are already uncomfortably damp because of it.

"No more talk," Quinn says firmly. There's a faint noise, and then Rachel feels something solid trail from her thigh to her hip.  She turns her head, looking down, and swallows thickly at seeing the nightstick held casually in Quinn's grip.  The baton, travels up her side, and then Quinn slides it across her body, underneath her breasts.  Her girlfriend then pulls, and Rachel turns with it so that her back is now against the door.

She's met with Quinn, looking every inch the perfect officer in her crisp uniform, despite  her messy bun.  Rachel shifts, biting her lip to keep the whimper from escaping at the way she throbs with the stare leveled at her.  Quinn steps forward, into her personal space, and a hand landing on the door just to the side of her head.  Quinn doesn't take her eyes off of her even as Rachel sees her twirl the nightstick expertly with one hand out of her peripheral vision.

The nightstick lands gently at her hip, and Quinn kisses her neck again, leaving a wet trail from jaw to collarbone.  Rachel shivers as Quinn guides the nightstick underneath her shirt.  It's cool on her skin, but considering how warm she is at the moment that doesn't mean much.

Quinn bites at her collarbone, and Rachel lets the back of her head fall against the door, eyes closed because  _fuck_  her girlfriend has a talented mouth.  Her hips tilt forward, searching for some kind of pressure to ease the throb.  Quinn draws back almost as soon as her eyes close, however, taking the nightstick with her.

But any disappointment is stolen from her lips as Quinn kisses her fervently.  The hand above the door comes to rest underneath her restrained arms to the small of her back, pulling their hips together.  They stay lip-locked, Quinn sucking at her bottom lip, pressed as closely together as possible.  Rachel wants to touch her so badly, to rumple that perfect uniform.  The handcuffs are driving her insane--both because she's at Quinn's mercy and because she aches to touch her.  

Quinn's hand leaves her back, fingertips trailing around to the hemline of her shirt before sliding up underneath and burning a trail to her breasts.  Rachel can't help the moan that passes her lips as her girlfriend's hand finds and tweaks a nipple.  Quinn uses the opportunity to slip her tongue into the kiss.  Rachel yearns to make her feel as desperate and wanton as she does now.  She battles back with her tongue, and Rachel can almost taste the moan Quinn is suppressing.  She can't keep the smirk off her face when it's Quinn that pulls back from the kiss, panting.

But Quinn's eyes narrow, and then Rachel feels the nightstick again, leaving a blazing path as it travels from the outside of her thigh toward the inside along the hem of her skirt.  Quinn jumps the nightstick from one leg to the other, pressing into the skin.  Rachel follows the wordless command, spreading her legs a little wider.

"I'm so glad you're wearing a skirt right now," Quinn husks.

Rachel doesn't get a chance to ask why before the nightstick is pressing up between her thighs, coming to rest at a point where it just barely touches her damp underwear.  Just enough that Rachel can feel its presence.  Just enough that she throbs all the more.

There's another little pause, a shared moment between them, as Quinn waits for any indication of resistance.  But Rachel's chest is heaving with want, and Quinn is...

" _Fuck_ ," Rachel groans, as Quinn presses the nightstick against her.  She shifts forward almost immediately, desperate for some friction.  She distantly hears Quinn take a shaky breath, but all Rachel knows is that her girlfriend is keeping the nightstick steady with two hands so she keeps rocking her hips into it.  She can feel the edge of Quinn's fingers each time she moves, holding it close to her in order to keep it firmly in place with each shift of her hips.  She trembles, heat running through her blood, eyes locked on Quinn's dark gaze.

"Not yet," Quinn commands.

Rachel wants to cry out her protest because she is so  _fucking close_.  But she stays as silent and still as she can, closing her eyes as Quinn pulls the nightstick back. It doesn't go far. Quinn keeps it pressed against the inside of her thigh as her hand replaces it.  Rachel wants to melt into her as Quinn pulls her panties aside, fingers finding her clit and slowly stroking back and forth. Her legs are close to giving out as is; her muscles shaking with tension. 

Then Rachel feels Quinn change her grip on the nightstick, and opens her eyes.  She meets Quinn's stare just as the nightstick slides through her wet folds, penetrating in one quick motion that draws a high pitched moan from the back of her throat.

Quinn can't have slid it more than a couple of inches inside her, but Rachel's walls are clenching around what is there of their own accord.  All she knows is that she's desperate for more, her hips arching forward as she leans back heavily against the door.  Quinn shifts so that she is nearly straddling one of her legs, leaving room to work.  She licks her lips, and Rachel hazily watches the muscles in her throat move as she swallows.

" _Please_ , Quinn," Rachel begs.  She burns with need.

And Quinn complies, sliding the nightstick further into her until Rachel practically writhes.  Quinn's fingers leave her clit, and she feels her securely grip the nightstick against her.  With the little bit of rationality still left in her mind, Rachel realizes Quinn is ensuring she will only penetrate just that far.

And then all rationality leaves her as Quinn begins pumping the nightstick in and out of her.  Rachel is warm and dripping and completely at Quinn's mercy.  Quinn's free hand slides around her, slipping between her back and handcuffed wrists to support her.  

Rachel needs all the support she can get. The thrusts of the nightstick stay in rhythm as Quinn attacks her neck once more, teeth and tongue grazing her skin.  She's certain her legs are going to give out as her body quivers with tension.  The nightstick pounds into her deep again and again and again. And, with each pump in, Quinn's hand hits her clit.  Rachel's hips rock with it, her body a slave to the pulsating pleasure.

And it's all building, and building, and burning, and throbbing more and more and more with each thrust inside her.  Rachel forgets to breathe, her muscles tensing except for her walls which clench even harder around the nightstick.  Her hips forget their rhythm and her head tips back.

"Quinn," she whimpers.  And then she closes her eyes, her mouth parting, and she finally comes.  Her back arches off even more from the door, her whole body shaking as the pleasure crashes through her.  And Quinn keeps the nightstick moving, drawing it all out, until nothing is left and all Rachel can do is slump against her.

Quinn holds her steady as she gently removes the nightstick.  Rachel shudders and sighs as it leaves her, resting her head against Quinn's shoulder.

"I'm never going to be able to look at a nightstick the same again," Rachel says softly.  "Even if some police officer is brandishing one at me."

"I better be the only officer ever using one on you," Quinn says with a slight growl.

"Well, you're always welcome to reassert your authority with it on me again," Rachel says.  She picks her head up, drawing back from Quinn's arms, and turning around.  "Now, uncuff me because we're not leaving here till I've delivered some retribution."


End file.
